To Make A Hero
by the-weirdwolf
Summary: Long before she was a hero, Sheaprd was an orphan living on the streets. Her past was full of actions she'd rather forget. Kaidan wants to know more about the woman he loves and convinces Shepard to share her story. Rated for violence, death, cursing.
1. ACT 1, part 1

**Disclaimer:** I own none of the characters, objects or settings from Mass Effect. They all belong to BioWare. I'm just playing with them!

**Author's note:** This is the back-story of Jennifer Shepard, an Earthborn, War Hero.

The part in italics is not from Jennifer's POV and she has no knowledge of those events.

**I hope you enjoy the first part and will bear with me until my exams are over and I can get the rest done ;)**

**For the Kaidan Alenko Support Thread**"What's your story Jen?" Kaidan's large hand trailed up her arm, making her shiver.

* * *

"My what?" Shepard mumbled, her head lifting just slightly off of Kaidan's hair spattered chest to turn and look at him. She had been dozing and her bright blue eyes were only half open.

"Your story. You know, your past. Tell me." Kaidan sounded genuinely curious; not once had Shepard purposely told him something about her days on Earth as a child. She had dropped only a handful of hints, mostly accidental ones, about her difficult upbringing on the streets of Washington D.C. He wanted to know more about the woman he was coming to love, what kind of things in her past had shaped her into the remarkable, beautiful woman she was now.

"Oh right," Shepard murmured, "My story. It's uh- it isn't one of those Cin- Dre, thingy with the mice stories." Shepard rested her head back onto Kaidan's chest and closed her eyes, obviously satisfied that her answer was adequate.

Kaidan chuckled, "Cinderella you mean." His hand, which had continued to trail up and down Shepard's arm now moved to her bedraggled hair, working delicately to move the errant strands and layers back behind Shepard's ear so that he could see her face. "But that was not an answer." Shepard gave a 'tut' and said, "Ok. My past is not a fairy tale. In explanation, it isn't suitable bedtime story-telling, so leave it." She sounded perhaps a little harsher than she had meant. Still, her past was a touchy subject, one that she'd rather not remember herself, let alone share it with anyone. Even Kaidan. But Kaidan was more persistent than Shepard expected.

"No I won't leave it. Jen, I love you, yet I know hardly anything about you. At least nothing I haven't been able to decipher since we met. I just want to know who you are." Kaidan sounded completely determined to get Shepard talking.

"Kaidan I- I never talk about my past to anyone, not unless it's completely necessary. I try not to even think of it. Does it really matter?" o emphasise her point, Shepard rolled onto her back beside Kaidan and propped herself up on her shoulders, giving herself the higher position physically. She hoped that this would in some way help her to gain the higher footing in the conversation. She was trying her utmost to think of a reasonable excuse for not sharing her life story, but no matter how hard she tried, every response she could think of seemed weak and easy for Kaidan to reason away.

"Yes, it matters. It's good to talk, to share. When I told you about brain camp and Vyrnuus I felt a million times better. And not because of some tacky 'I've told someone so they can make it all better now' thing. Just that you knew about it; you knew a bit more about who I am, and you accepted it and left it at that. Everyone's got skeletons, love."

"Yeah, my closet is full to bursting point. I have to try so hard not to let them out, Kaidan. I know that if I did, it would put me off the task at hand. That's something I cannot allow to happen." Shepard had regained some of her composure, her tone resembled that which she used on duty.

"You know I won't let that happen. Tell me." He sounded almost pleading and he moved to cup Shepard's face with two hands. His dark brown eyes bore into hers, trying to loosen her resolve, willing her to let every mental barrier she had fall and allow him to truly understand who she was. Kaidan watched as Shepard wavered and finally gave in.

"Fine. What do you want to know, Kaidan?"

"Everything." Kaidan said softly, "Tell me everything you can."

"I only remember from when I was six." Shepard replied honestly, it was as if she was ashamed to admit that she bore no memory whatsoever of her first five years of life.

"Then go from there." Kaidan replied and he pulled Shepard into his embrace, allowing her to talk into his neck rather than look him in the face.

* * *

Jennifer Shepard's eyes fluttered open to the pitch black of her bedroom. It was too dark, still night-time. Her face scrunched up as she tried to remember what had awoken her. A nightmare? If it had been a nightmare, she couldn't remember it. Her round, blue eyes gazed the blackness and she thought she might go and tell her parents that she couldn't sleep.

She started to get out of bed when –BANG!- a noise so loud she physically jumped back against her headboard, sounded from across the landing- her parents' room. Her eyes widened in fear. She knew that sound, if not from experience then from childlike intuition and the vids she had seen on the extranet. It was the sound of a gun. And it must have been a previous gunshot that had startled her awake. She felt tears of fear begin to form and they slid down her cheeks. Normally, when she cried, she would wipe them away and put on a brave face, but not now. She was frozen, her small form trembling under her bed cover. Someone was in the house, in her parents' room. Whoever they were, they had a gun and they had just fired it.

Despite being only six years of age, she knew better than to scream out, to let the person know that she was in here. Mustering her usually boundless bravery, she reached and pulled the cover over her head, drawing her knees up to her chin and wrapping her arms around her legs. She clutched at herself for safety, sleep tousled brown hair falling into her eyes as she kept her head low. She hoped that perhaps the gunshots had just been a warning; that her parents were alright still. Perhaps her father, who was an ex-soldier, would have been able to beat the intruder and he was going to come through her door any second, telling her not to worry and that the police were on their way. And then her mother would follow and she would hold Jennifer and wipe away the tears that still fell.

Nobody came. Not her parents. Not the person with the gun. She sat and waited, listening. A short time later, though it had seemed like forever, she heard the front door opening and closing with obvious care. She felt torn; she wanted to stay where she was in the illusion of safety that her bed covers provided her as much as she wanted to bolt to her parents' room to see if they were alright. Curiosity won. Tossing the covers aside, the young girl launched out of bed, her decision made. She ran out the bedroom door and darted across the landing. Her steps slowed as she reached her parent's bedroom; the door had been left open but it was too dark inside to see anything.

The girl took tentative steps inside and she reached blindly for the light controls, her arm raised to full length to find it on the wall beside the door. She eventually found the small control panel and pressed a finger over the touch-sensitive 'on' button. The room lit up and she turned to face the bed. She froze still. Her mother lay still on the bed, eyes still shut as if she were still sleeping. Her father was strewn ridiculously across the floor-the open bedside cabinet suggested that he had been reaching for the pistol he kept there. He had been too slow and his eyes remained open, staring blankly at the skirting board. There was-her stomach twisted- there was red everywhere. Blood.

She wanted to scream out for help, in pain and in anger all at once but her voice had deserted her the moment she had set eyes on the lifeless bodies of her parents. She just stood, sawing slightly on the spot and she continued to stare, like some invisible force was keeping her eyes locked into position. She couldn't stop staring into her father's eyes.

Completely unaware of anything but the horror before her, Jennifer Shepard did not hear when someone opened the front door downstairs. Nor did she hear when they climbed the stairs and entered the bedroom to find her staring.

"Little girl." A young man's voice said from behind her. The girl jumped and turned around to face the new intruder. He looked like someone from the streets; his hair and clothes were dirty and unkempt and he smelled bad. Still, he had a kindness beyond his years in his face and his voice had been deep and soft when he had spoken. "Are you alright?" he asked.

Jennifer didn't know what to do. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't talk to a stranger but this was anything but a normal situation. She shook her head at him sadly and spoke in a wavering voice; "Someone broke in."

"I know, I saw a man running out of your house with a gun and thought I'd come in and see if everything was ok."

"It's not!" the girl shouted now, she had found her voice; "He killed them. My parents! They're gone, but I'm still here because I was hiding in my room and now I have nobody because we don't have any family and we only moved here not long ago and I haven't even started at my new school yet and..." Her childish rant merged into incoherent sobbing and the young man knelt down in front of her, putting his hands on her shoulders in comfort.

"What's your name?" his voice remained quiet, yet the girl heard him over her sobbing,

"J-Jennifer." She murmured between cries, "Jennifer Shepard." She added. Even now in her anguish she remembered to introduce herself with her full name like her parents had taught her to when meeting someone new.

"Jennifer Shepard, huh. How old are you?"

"Six."

"Ok. And is there anybody who can take care of you?" he enquired. The six year old only shook her head again in answer, her eyes red and puffy as yet more tears fell. "No?" Another shake of the head, the young man sighed; "Then how about, how about if you come and live with me and I'll take care of you? You can't stay here by yourself and you'll be no better off if you go into care. Believe me, I've been there."

Jennifer thought about the man's offer, her sobs slowing as she concentrated. She didn't really understand what her meant by 'go into care' but the way he had said it made her think that she definitely did not want to go into it, whatever it was. But going with him, a stranger, would be silly. It will go against all of my parents' rules...then her mind stopped dead. She didn't have parents anymore. She was alone and right now the only bit of hope she had of living was to go with the man kneeling in front of her. If she didn't she would be left all alone to wander the streets, hoping to find someone willing to take care of her. She knew despite her age, this would be unlikely. The streets of the city were now full of homeless children like her; they formed gangs and fended for themselves in the very centre of the capital. Nobody would be willing to take in a child off the street, not if there was a possibility that the child was a gang member. The gang's had terrible reputations.

"Ok." Jennifer said simply. It was really her only option.

"Good." The man said with a small smile, "I'm Fred Zayer. People call me Zayer though."

"Freddie?" the young girl said, preferring the pet name to the man's surname. Fred Zayer chuckled,

"Alright, you can call me Freddie. But only if I can call you Jen."

Jennifer pouted as she responded, "Nobody calls me Jen. I'm always Jennifer."

"Huh, well, nobody calls me Freddie." He held out his right hand, "Deal?"

The girl looked at Freddie's hand for a moment and then shook it with her considerably smaller and pudgier hand. When they finished their handshake, Freddie didn't let go of her hand, he held it tight, "We need to go now Jen. Do you want to say goodbye?" he motioned his head past Jennifer's shoulder towards her parents. She nodded meekly and turned to face the bodies.

"Bye." She said simply and she turned back around, unable to look anymore and ready to escape her now lost family home.

"Come on then." Freddie said tugging on her hand and leading her out of the bedroom.

"Wait!" she cried and Freddie stopped instantly, looking down at the girl with worried eyes. She let go of his hand and ran to her father's body. Then she knelt beside his head and with her small fingers, she closed his eyelids so that he too appeared to be sleeping like her mother. She had seen this on one of her father's war movies. She had stayed up late and begged to watch with him, despite being too young. When a soldier had died, his comrade had closed his eyes to make him look more peaceful. Something about those war movies had captured the young girl's imagination; the heroism, the friendship, even the action, and it seemed right that she should do this, like that soldier had, for her dad who had been a real soldier. And so, she picked herself up off the floor and walked back over to Freddie, who looked as though he might cry himself.

"I'm ready now Freddie." He nodded and took her hand again, leading her down the stairs and out of the house into the night and into her new life on the streets with him.

* * *

_He cursed inwardly as his foot caught on the corner of the bedroom door as he entered. His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he immediately scanned the two figures that occupied the bed. One of them, the male, had heard him stumble and was bolt upright, staring towards him in the pitch blackness. The intruder panicked and with shaky hands he immediately pointed his almost antique gun at the female, who had not woken. He hoped that doing this would be enough of a warning, but the man in the bed, although startled by the presence of the weapon, continued to move; he was reaching into the bedside cabinet. _

_The intruder took a sharp breath. Did the man keep a firearm in that cabinet? On his way up the stairs he had seen military medals adorning the walls- the man was definitely trained in combat. He had a split second before the man would retrieve whatever it was in that cabinet; a split second to decide what to do. The gun was still pointed at the woman; he thought only momentarily, aimed and-BANG!- fired at the sleeping figure. She made no noise; it was an instant kill from such a short range. The man turned from the cabinet with a mix of shock and anger in his eyes. The intruder knew he had no choice; he aimed the gun again and watched as the man tried to duck as he fired and hit him square in the chest. The man crumpled into an impossibly twisted pose on the floor, his eyes still staring but not at the darkness of the room; they were staring blankly into death._

_The intruder cursed under his breath again. Things were never simple. He was supposed to have broke in, stole the first decent amount of credits he could find and get out of there and back to the gang leader with his stash. The gun had been a precaution._

_He turned about on the spot and in the darkness, he spotted a credit chit on top of a chest of draws, he grabbed it and ran as quietly as he could back out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Before he left, he turned and spotted a family photo hanging lopsided by the front door- he grimaced and turned away from the smiling faces, opening the front door and stepping out into the cool night air. He shut the door and saw as his lookout appeared from behind the hedges on the street."Well?" he whispered into the air. The intruder lifted up the wallet in affirmation. "Good. What the hell happened in there?"_

"_The guy woke up- I didn't really think about it, I just...fired." he explained, walking down the drive towards his companion._

"_It took two shots?"_

"_No, I shot his wife first, he was reaching for a weapon or something so I thought I'd try and stop him."_

"_Damn." His companion said with a wince, "Ah well, you got the loot, let's get to back and give it to the boss. I'm starving."_

"_Yeah!" the intruder said, his mood picking up slightly at the thought of something half decent to eat, purchased with the credits he had just stolen. He and his lookout were members of the 10th Street Reds- at the most basic level they were a rag tag bunch of orphans, runaways and other delinquents grouped together in order to have a chance of survival on the streets of the capital. On a more complex level, the gang was actually one of the strongest and most organised in the city and widely known for their xenophobia and violence that had spawned since first contact two years ago in 2157._

_The two gang members began to walk down the deserted suburban street when the intruder stopped dead in his tracks,_

"_Shit!" he swore aloud this time as he realised something. His companion stopped and turned to him in concern._

"_What? What's wrong man?"_

"_There was a kid." The intruder's shoulders drooped and he looked in chagrin at the black sky. "I saw a kid on a family photo. I only killed the parents. Shit, Tommy what am I going to do?"_

_His lookout, Tommy shrugged and bit his lip. "Man, you're gonna have to go back in there and finish the job. How old did the kid look on the photo?"_

"_I don't know, five maybe?"_

"_Old enough to be able to tell someone what happened. You've got no choice man, you're gonna have to go back in there."_

"_I can't kill a kid!" the man-turned-murderer exclaimed to his friend. Tommy shrugged again. "Look, this is your problem. Do what you want, but if that kid survives and lets the cops know, Cody will slaughter you."_

_Tommy was right, if the law got involved in this in anyway and Cody, the current leader of the 'Reds' found out, the man knew he wouldn't see the light of another day. He had to go back in there and finish the kid off; he had to save his own skin. _

"_Anyway, I'm going to head back with the creds. Maybe if you hurry, the food won't be gone." Tommy said. He was known for his distinct lack of compassion- some might even call him heartless._

"_Yeah." The intruder said and he turned to walk back toward s the house, wondering if there was really anyway he could get out of killing the kid. Maybe if he just-_

"_Hey, Zayer!"Tommy called after him, stopping his thoughts; "Try not to screw up this time, yeah? That things only got six shots you know!"_

.


	2. ACT 1, part 2

"I'm cold." Jennifer said with a noticeable shiver. She was hunched up in a doorway to some corporate building, closed and eerie at the late hour.  
"You'll get used to it." Fred gave her a small smile, "Here." He took off his tattered grey jacket and wrapped it around the girl's small shoulders. Despite its strong smell of dirt, she immediately snuggled into it- the garment was big enough on her to act as an adequate make-shift blanket.  
"Thank you," she whispered and then she gave a yawn, her blue eyes drooping.  
"You should try to sleep." Freddie whispered back, reaching out to place a hand on Jennifer's shoulder. She looked at him uneasily; "Don't worry; I'll be here when you wake up. I promise."  
"Really?"  
"Really. Now, close your eyes and sleep kiddo."  
Jennifer pouted at this, "I thought I was Jen, not _kiddo_." She was fiery for a six year old.  
"Sorry Jen."  
"You should make your mind up." And she was very smart for her age too. The girl wrapped Fred's jacket tight around her and manoeuvred into a more comfortable position. "Night Freddie."  
"Goodnight Jen."

* * *

"I don't want to go!" the young girl moaned as her new friend and protector tried once again to reason with her about going to school at the start of September.  
"Jen, you have to go. All kids have to go to school to learn." Fred repeated and again he was met with the same answer;  
"You said you never went to school! Not all kids go. I just want to stay with you, so you can teach me how to fight and be like you! I don't need to go to school."  
The girl was referring to the few weeks of lessons on how to live on the streets Fred had given her. So far she had proven capable beyond her years at lock-picking old doors, and she was fast learning how to hack the new ones with security consoles. Despite being six, she had a knack for picking things up after only a few times of being told what to do. She had also been enthralled at the prospect of being taught hand-to-hand combat and how to shoot when she was a little older. The idea of having to attend school, however, had not gone down that well and bringing it up had initially lead to a tantrum. A tantrum that had lasted all morning, and, after wearing off over the day, had started again immediately upon Fred's return from wherever he spent his time.  
"Yes you do. The reason I'm still on the streets is because I never got proper schooling. With an education I could have gotten some sort of job, but no, I didn't go and now I'm nineteen with no future." Fred knelt down to hold Jen's gaze and once again, placed his hands upon her shoulders- something he always did when trying to reassure her- "I don't want that for you, ok? I want you to have a future. I know you don't want to go to school, but you have to, it's for the best."  
"You sound like my parents did." Jennifer stated, her arms folding across her chest with a huff.  
"Good. It means I'm doing well at looking after you. Now please, will you go to school next Monday?"  
Jennifer seemed to consider it more carefully than a child should. Her face wrinkled, as if she were trying desperately to find a loophole, some way to turn the situation in her favour. Her eyes widened and she smiled brightly as an idea suddenly occurred to her. Fred had never told her where he went when he disappeared during the day (and sometimes most of the night). Maybe she could bargain with him. Almost too innocent looking blue eyes stared directly into muddy green ones as she said triumphantly, "I'll go to school Freddie...if you tell me where you go all day. And no lying!"  
"Jen, you know I-" Fred cut himself short as he considered the trade and Jennifer waited, watching with expectancy and judging by her tapping foot, a degree of impatience. "Alright you win. Sit down."

* * *

Jennifer sat silently as she digested all of what Fred had just told her about his role in a street gang called the 10th Street Reds, or the 'Reds' as he had called it. Nothing she had heard about street gangs had been good and this left her confused; could she really trust Freddy? Yes, he had been extremely kind, he had looked after her since her parents had been murdered, kept her reasonable well fed, but he was still part of a violent gang.  
He had tried to explain to her that he was only a part of the gang because it was the easiest way to survive; by working as a group. Jennifer didn't fully understand where he was coming from. At her age, she could only see the facts; he was in a gang, and that was bad. But he also took care of her and was her only friend and protector, and that was good. And to her mind, the latter was the most important point; she needed Fred to look after her and, though for some reason she didn't like to admit it, she had started to enjoy her time on the streets with him, learning to survive.  
The loss of her parents still hurt her though and she cried herself to sleep most nights and would sometimes tear-up in the daytime too. She didn't like it when that happened because Fred wasn't there to put his arm around her shoulder, and now she knew why he was rarely present in the day. And, being a child, now that she knew where he went, naturally she wanted to go with him- to follow her only source of comfort so that he could be there whenever she needed him. She looked at him with hopeful, doe eyes.  
"Let me join!" she said eagerly, "Let me come with you. I can help, now that you've started to teach me things."  
Fred gave her a rueful smile; "Jen, even if I wanted you too-which I don't- I wouldn't be able to take you with me. They only let you join if thirteen or older."  
"Oh." Jennifer answered and her head drooped to the floor, "I didn't know gangs had rules." She muttered to the floor.  
"Most don't. But the Reds are a powerful gang and they want to stay that way."  
"Oh." The girl murmured again and she blinked to hold back tears,  
"I promise to keep on teaching you things though. We can give the console on the convenience store another go tonight. If you get in, we could get an ice-cream, if you want." Fred offered, desperate to cheer his very young protégé up. It seemed to work because Jennifer stopped looking at the floor and gave him a smile.  
"Ok. But when will you teach me how to shoot your pellet gun? I want to learn." She smiled sweetly; she had asked the question about using Fred's small pellet gun (which was reasonably harmless, but painful enough to serve as a good self-defence tool) before.  
"I've already told you. You are too young still. I promise you I will teach you how to shoot one day, but not now. Wait until you're about ten."  
"Eight!" Jennifer bargained.  
"Nine then."  
"Alright then, as long as I can have my first lesson _on_ my Birthday." The girl let up eventually and seemed more than excited at the prospect of such a birthday present.  
"Agreed, Jen. When is your birthday?" Fred asked out of curiosity. Whilst he now knew enough about Jennifer's character, he still didn't know much basic information about the girl he was raising.  
"April 11th."  
"I'll remember that. Now I have to go, but I promise I'll be back soon and we can try that console."  
Jennifer nodded in a new found understanding and rose onto her knees to lean forward and give Fred a small hug. He hugged her back, still somewhat awkwardly as he wasn't quite used to the sentiment yet. He smiled at her and picked himself off the step. "Bye bye Freddie."  
"See you later, Jen. Will you be here?"  
Jennifer nodded- sometimes she would enjoy a small wonder through the city and she would arrange to meet Fred at another of their 'designated' sleeping areas- but now she just wanted to sit and watch the street go by as she tried to fully wrap her child's mind around what Fred had told her about the Reds. And wonder in excitement how good she would be at shooting, when she was nine of course.

* * *

Kaidan felt as a tear splashed onto his chest. Jennifer had started to cry near the end of her retelling of what she had explained to be the 'first stage' in her upbringing. Though he knew she had finished for now, he remained silent. He was having trouble digesting everything that he had just heard.  
Even as a young girl, Jennifer had shown so much resilience. It was now one of her most prominent features. He wondered if there was actually anything in the galaxy that would ever distract Jen from a mission. He highly doubted it. In a way, he guessed, she had had little choice but to move on from her shattered family life. Perhaps she had done it too quickly for a six year old girl, but Kaidan knew enough about the state of Earth's social care system to think that perhaps going with Fred and becoming a 'street kid' was the best option. Looking at what she had become though, knowing her as the hero she was, it was hard to match the pieces. He couldn't see how a girl from the streets could have evolved into the first human Spectre.  
Kaidan realised that he had being mulling for quite some time and when he peered down at Jennifer, he found her staring up at him, eyes puffy and red, an expectant expression on her face.  
"So that's the only other guy who called you Jen huh?" He said rather feebly. As much as he wanted to discuss some of the more pressing issues in the story, he thought it would be less draining for Jennifer if he kept things light-hearted.  
"Yep." Jennifer's voice was surprisingly even, glad that Kaidan wasn't being too serious; "So you can save yourself all that torment about who my other 'Mr Wonderful' was. He was thirteen years my senior and nothing ever happened- he was my big brother. He was cute though, I guess."  
Kaidan looked sceptically at her and noticed that her tears had been wiped away. "A rather astute definition for a six year old," he said with a small grin.  
"No, I didn't make that observation until I was older. Revelation struck aged eleven I think," Jennifer explained with her own wry smile.  
"Huh. Will I get to hear about this epiphany?"  
"Eventually. But we've got gun-toting nine year olds and a few robberies to get through first. So you can save the jealousy, mister." Jennifer's humorous tone tried and failed to mask the gravity of what she had just alluded to.  
"Guns and robberies? I guess Fred stuck to his promise about your birthday then?"  
"That was one of the things I loved about him. I could count on him." Jennifer gave a small nod against Kaidan's neck. "I guess I like that trait in men." She added, moving out from under his chin and looking him in the eyes. He smiled and leant his head to place a gentle kiss on her lips. They eventually parted and Kaidan gazed down at Jennifer.  
"You look tired," he said. Her re-telling of her past had certainly seemed to drain her. He wasn't surprised- it couldn't be easy for her to share this with him. And for that he felt so grateful, he already felt that he knew Jennifer so much better and although none of the pieces fit together for him yet, he was sure that once he knew the whole story it would only make him admire and love the woman lying against him more. "You should get some sleep." He said and he used his strength to move both of them and they lay down, Jennifer remained nestles into his neck.  
"I'll tell you some more. Sometime. When I get a chance." Her speech was slurred and broken by a yawn.  
"You don't have to tell me anymore. Not if you don't want to." Kaidan said, worried that if she carried on, Jennifer would become too distressed.  
"No, no I want to tell you. It's nice. Telling you. Makes me feel better, like you know me more and-"the volume at which she spoke steadily decreased until what she was saying became incoherent mumbling and soon after, sleepy silence.  
"Thank you, Jen. Thank you for telling me." Kaidan whispered, only half-expecting her to hear him.  
"Mmm, s'ok."  
"Goodnight Jen." The lack of reply and the steadying pace of Jennifer's breathing were sure signs that she had fallen asleep. Kaidan smiled to himself; he would have to wait until she was ready to share with him again. Only then would he be able to start fitting the pieces together.

.


End file.
